Chuck versus Evil Chuck
by Arikel
Summary: My first Chuck fic. Team Bartowski's latest threat might be Chuck himself. Please r&r.
1. Stay

**Chuck vs. Evil Chuck**

**Disclaimer**: I own Chuck. I'm also a compulsive liar named Ronald Reagan with two Porsches in my driveway and the Swedish Bikini Team living in my summer home in Gstaad. Honestly. Except the part about me being a compulsive liar.

**Spoilers**: Chuck vs. the Suburbs, picks up where that left off and goes A/U from there.

**Ch 1 – Stay**

Ellie turned at the sound of the door closing and smiled on seeing her younger brother dragging his suitcase down the hall.

"Hey. What'd I tell you, house-sitting really changes things, huh?"

"Absolutely," he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Just not in the way you were hoping, Elle. To tell you the truth, the suburbs were kind of a disaster for me and Sarah."

Ellie got up from her chair, looking concerned.

"Well, what happened? What went wrong?"

"I guess something that's been wrong from the start, y'know."

"I… you guys aren't breaking up, are you?"

"No, no, no, no. No. Trust me. Sarah's not going anywhere," he quickly added.

"Chuck, I guess…" she began, looking confused. "I don't know what you're saying exactly."

"Look Elle, I know how much you love Sarah. And I know how much you love the idea of us moving forward with you and Devon. But… we're not anything like you guys," Chuck replied, thinking just how much of an understatement that was.

"But you guys seem so perfect."

"Yeah, I guess. But being in that house… with her, it was so close to being perfect. The way I had always pictured the way it would be. That I realized what was wrong with that picture. And it was us."

Chuck frowned, remembering the fake pictures in their fake house, showcasing their perfect, fake relationship. Photoshopped images of a moment that never happened and never would.

"Sarah and I are never going to be anything more than what we are right now," he replied and Ellie's face softened in a mixture of sadness and worry. "And you know what? I'm okay with that."

Chuck put on a brave face for his sister's benefit and stepped into his room, leaving his suitcase by the door and then dropped onto his bed. It had been a pretty mind-opening, heart-wrenching… typical Team Bartowski mission.

On one hand, he could count the highlights of the past few days. Sarah with a beatific smile as she cooked breakfast for him. Sarah in her bathrobe coming out to give him a kiss as he left for work. Sarah with a ring on her finger.

He placed his arms over his eyes and tried to remember the feel of her hand in his as he shielded her from the Fulcrum Intersect images. The feel of the cool metal band underneath the pad of his thumb that would've marked Sarah as being his, just as his band marked Chuck as being hers. He rubbed his finger and could almost feel it there. Still feel that symbol of partnership that meant everything to him. And nothing to her.

Could he blame her? Why would she want to give up the debonair Jane Bondian-lifestyle to become what? Mrs. Sarah Bartowski, bathrobe fashionista extraordinaire?

He squeezed his eyes shut to try and shut out the image of her impassive expression as he gave the ring back, hoping against all hope and their history together that she might hesitate. That she might show some glimmer of desire to stay with him. And instantly regretted the action as a deluge of red, murky images flooded his mind.

Hearing a noise across the room, Chuck rolled to his side, grabbed the copy of _The Decline of Western Civilization _from his nightstand and hurled it at the source. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he saw Morgan at the window, rubbing his nose.

"Okay, one: _**ow**_. Two: nice throw, dude! Three: _**ow**_."

"Morgan! I'm so sorry! You okay?"

"Yeah, Chuck. What was that," Morgan griped, sniffing experimentally.

"Uh… surprised… me is all. Wh-what are you doing here?"

Morgan got a lopsided grin and scratched at his beard.

"Want to play some Call of Duty?"

"Yeah," Chuck said with a smile, pushing aside thoughts of beautiful spies and horrible crimes. "Let's blow stuff up."

"Now you're talking!"

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Sarah fell onto her bed with a sigh.

She had taken hard beatings. She'd been subjected to torture on more occasions than she cared to recall. But none of them compared to her current assignment. And no interrogator had been more skilled at breaking her than a nerd named Chuck.

The longer she stayed on this assignment, the harder it became to endure the beatings. Chuck breaking up with her (a few times), punch to the gut. Chuck giving his mother's charm bracelet to her, broken fingers. Chuck's reluctance at giving back the wedding band, broken heart. Chuck… just being himself, she's ready to confess all.

Sarah placed her arms over her eyes and tried to forget the feel of his hand gripping hers, her face buried in his shoulder as he protected her, ensuring that the Intersect images didn't imprint on her mind and destroy it. She tried to forget the life that could've been.

After all, the honeymoon was over.

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Chuck wrapped gauze around his thumb, trying to cut down on the irritation from his 'battle scars.'

"War is hell," Morgan intoned as his friend stepped back into the room, eyes glued to the video game carnage on the screen.

"Ain't that the truth," Chuck replied, sitting down on the bed and watching the deathmatch in progress. "So, not that I don't appreciate the compan, but what's with the all-night gameathon? Get kicked out of the house?"

"Well, kinda. Big Mike's over there. And I really don't want to go home right now."

"Why… would Big Mike be at your mom's," Chuck asked, a slightly confused grin on his face.

"Because I… kinda… _**accidentally**_ hooked him up with her," Morgan explained and glancing over to see Chuck's bewildered expression, he groaned. "It's like this. It was Lester and Jeff's idea…."

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While at Harvard, Sarah had taken a psychology class. One of the topics that had interested her at the time was oneirology, the study of dreams. Since high school, she had a recurring dream of the day that her father left her. A normal enough experience, given his subsequent arrest, but what bothered her was that she hadn't had that dream since becoming an agent. Until today.

Her eyes fluttered open and Sarah stared at the ceiling for a moment in the predawn light. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned over and looked at the clock that Chuck had given her last year.

_Chuck_.

Putting her arm over her eyes, Sarah's mind drifted back to those classes and remembered the interpretation that she turned up when she researched her dreams. A literal interpretation was the fear of being deserted, abandoned or even betrayed.

_Surely not something that would happen in my life_, she thought with a smirk.

But there were other meanings she remembered as well, and chose not to dwell on. Sarah stared at the clock as it switched to 6:30 and the music switched on.

…_. You'd better hope and pray_

…_. That you make it safe_

…_. Back to your own world_

…_. You'd better hope and pray_

…_. That you'll wake one day _

…_. In your own world_

Sarah groaned as her mind went again to the man that was beginning to fill her waking thoughts. Getting to her feet, Sarah switched off the radio and prepared herself for another mind-opening, heart-wrenching, typical Team Bartowski mission.

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…_. Coz when you sleep at night_

…_. They don't hear your cries_

…_. In your own world_

…_. Only time will tell_

…_. If you can break the spell_

…_. Back in your own world_

Chuck rolled over and glared at the clock. Last time Sarah had spent the night in his room, she had set the alarm for 6:30 to go for her morning run. As late as he went to bed after the orgy of video game violence and grape soda, he'd forgotten to switch the time to 7:30.

Grumbling, Chuck reached out and punched the snooze button, closing his eyes with an exhalation of breath.

_A few calm, nobody-hunting-me-down-and-wanting-to-kill-me days, that's all I ask._

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The figure sat in shadows, her keystrokes echoing in the vast conference room, her fellow leaders of the Ring having long since gone home to their spouses and children. Of all her colleagues, only she truly had the drive and determination to see their objective realized. They had families to which they were beholden. She had abandoned hers long ago.

As the woman known only as Artemis pulled up a message from Meadow Branch, her eyes widened at the video footage attached to the email. Picking up the secure line, her lips took on a satisfied smirk as she purred into the receiver.

"Find this… Charles Carmichael."


	2. Wake Up

**Ch 2 – Wake Up**

**A/N: Rating for language. The character of Chidi Ahanotu is played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. Also, thanks for the reviews. You guys are **_**awesome**_**!**

**And thanks to Engineerd, Artemay and fAteD lOvE for betaing this monster!**

**One Month Later….**

"Chuck!"

"Bartowski!"

Chuck was removing the motherboard from a customer's laptop that had gotten fried by the Jessica Biel virus. Screws were sticking out between his lips and he looked up as Big Mike marched up to the Nerd Herd desk. From the home theater room, Casey was glowering at him.

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Where's Grimes?"

Chuck dropped the screws into his hand and looked back up at his freakish leader, ignoring the pointed stare from the trained killer not that far away.

"I… saw him here just a minute ago…."

"Don't give me that I saw him just a minute ago crap. Your boy didn't clock in this morning. Find him. Need to have a little sit down," Big Mike said the last in what was almost an ominous way.

"Yes sir," Chuck replied, putting down the screwdriver and picking up his phone as he headed towards Casey. As he headed down the DVD aisle, he was intercepted by the daffy duo.

"Chuck, if we might have a moment of your time," Lester spoke in a tone that he clearly thought was supposed to sound urbane.

"Uh, sure guys," Chuck replied, holding up a finger to Casey to let him know he'd be there in just a minute, predictably receiving a glower in response. "What's up?"

"We wanted to discuss the fraternization policy with you."

"What… fraternization policy?"

"Fraternization with the enemy, Chuck," Lester said patiently. "Let's say, someone, we'll call him… Gee-off, was interested in a certain Large Mart employee. Would this pose a conflict of interest and/or possibly include the charges of treason?"

Jeff was looking at Chuck with a mixture of hope and dread.

"Treason? Guys… how many times have I told you not to come to work drunk?"

"This week," Jeff asked, to which Lester shot him a dirty look.

"We have not partaken of Big Mike's hidden stash," Lester said, then hastily added. "Today."

"No, there's no treason charges," Chuck replied wearily. "There's not even a fraternization policy. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"There's no policy," Jeff asked incredulously, then looked at Lester. "Sweet. Now if we can just find out the name of that display model…."

"One step at a time, my padawan. One step at a time."

"About time," Casey growled as Chuck slipped past him into the darkened room.

"Sorry Casey," Chuck replied, dialing Morgan's number. "Duty calls."

"Damn right it does," Casey spat, snagging the phone. "Your country's calling. Not the Buy More. Meeting in five."

As Chuck and Casey were involved in their hourly pissing match, it gave Sarah a moment to study her asset. There were bags under his eyes and a small scratch on his cheek. Her brows furrowed as Sarah tried to recall on which mission he got hurt. She always made sure to keep track of Chuck's injuries, 'so that they wouldn't cause any problems for future missions.' But the fresh cut was one she hadn't seen.

Chuck flopped down onto the sofa next to her, a long-suffering expression on his face as he glared up at his burly protector.

"What happened," Sarah asked, pulling his attention over to her.

"Oh, Big Mike just asked me to check up on Morgan, since he didn't come in today and when I tried to call, Casey took my phone. I expect that back by the way," he stated loudly, to which Casey grunted. "Ah, number seventeen. Scorn with a hint of amusement."

Sarah smiled briefly before reaching out to touch his cheek.

"No, I meant that. Cut yourself shaving?"

"Oh," Chuck replied with a puzzled look, jerking away and touching his finger to the cut, not noticing the hurt expression that briefly graced her features. "Don't know. I mean, I probably just scratched myself while moving the computers out back."

Sarah was denied a response and she had to suppress her look of concern when the general appeared on screen and Casey tossed the phone back to Chuck as their briefing began.

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"You're late."

"I apologize, ma'am," Vincent replied, blinded by the spotlight, scars fresh on his face that looked like he'd gone a few rounds with a mountain lioness, and, worse of all, surrounded by Elders that were not satisfied with the execution of his duties. "I was delayed."

Vincent Smith had made a career on doing what was deemed improbable, too risky or downright insane. During his time as a Chemical Officer with the United States Army, Vincent developed several reagents that would increase a soldier's resistance to pain, overcome fear and even put a soldier into a death-like state.

Having studied the Aum Shinrikyo attacks in 1995, after graduating from the Special Forces course at Fort Bragg, Vincent was sent to capture Katsu Himura, Shoko Asahara's protégée. Not only did the team have to get through the mass of fanatical followers, but avoid the local law enforcement who were watching the cult. Vincent and his team managed to pull out Himura. They also extracted all the sarin gas that the cult was refining for another attack.

Over the next few years, Vincent became disenfranchised with the resistance he faced when encountering foreign agencies. Most operations had to work around the local Powers That Be and he'd lost more than one man due to a shoot out that could've been avoided. So when Chidi Ahanotu approached him in 2000 with the dream of a world united with orders coming from one single body rather than having multiple governments and agencies with their own agendas, Vincent took it hook, line and sinker.

Mister Ahanotu became Vincent's handler in the Ring, operating out of their European Union division, the Fourth Pillar. Ahanotu and Vincent operated in the members states for a few years before Marduk, Elder of the Fourth Pillar reassigned Vincent to FULCRUM. As usual, Vincent pulled off the impossible.

Then he landed the Carmichael mission. Three weeks ago, Vincent got the call from Artemis.

"Go ahead," Vincent answered his cell phone, watching as Senator John Reilly's drive went into the sandtrap. "Ooh, bad luck pal."

"Tell me about it," Reilly groused as Vincent nodded, taking in his orders.

"Yes ma'am. I'm in Pebble Beach. I can be at Meadow Branch within the hour."

"Gotta run" Reilly asked as Vincent started putting his clubs away.

"Afraid so," Vincent said, pulling out the gun from his bag and attaching the silencer. "Duty calls."

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"Agents, I need to inform you that-"

… _Any way you want it_

… _That's the way you need it_

… _Any way you want it_

Chuck gulped as two pair of annoyed gazes turned on him. While beside him, Sarah tried to suppress a grin.

"Sorry. So sorry. I'll just," Chuck began, knowing from the wrong tone that it was Morgan. "Actually… I do need to take this. Buddy, where are you? Big Mike's been looking."

"At the pier. For a little something called Operation Payback."

"Morgan, you've got to get to work! The big guy's not joking around."

"Can't Chuck! That jerk from the Dance Dance Revolution game came back and issued a challenge. I **have** to face it! Plus, you still owe me ten dollars," Morgan said the last to someone nearby as Chuck's eyes widened in fear for his friend.

"You mean Lazslo? Lazslo Manhovski is at the pier," Chuck asked, looking up to the General.

"I don't… hey is your name Lazslo," he heard Morgan ask. "Yeah. He says hi."

"Yes," the General answered Chuck's unasked question. "I was just about to inform you that Manhovski has escaped again."

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"After three weeks on this mission, I came to the conclusion that Charles Carmichael must be one of the CIA's most highly placed operatives. I believe only the Intersect would know his true identity and whereabouts," Vincent reported to his superiors.

"From the information I have managed to gather, Agent Carmichael has been responsible for a number of loses that FULCRUM has sustained. I've placed him as being in the West Coast area, possibly Los Angeles, but I don't know where yet.

"Carmichael had a partner when infiltrating the Meadow Branch community. Agent Sarah Walker. My sources were able to identify her as protégé to former Director Arthur Graham. She was also the partner to Bryce Larkin, the Human Intersect. I then began pursuing that avenue. My sources in the CIA were discovered and I had to find a new way in. In my investigations, I learned about Laszlo Manhovski, an asset the CIA had in place for years before he attempted escape. He was then transferred to a secure facility by none other than Agent Walker. I found that he was all too eager to get revenge against the agent and I procured his early release. However… I underestimated his unwillingness to work with us," he said, wincing in pain.

"Manhovski will be dealt with," Svarog answered. As leader of the Ring's Control Service in Russia, he had a vested interest in bringing that particular CIA asset into their fold. With the collapse of the U.S.S.R. almost two decades ago, ex-members of the KGB like Svarog himself had moved into positions of authority in criminal organizations. They brought a business-like mentality to the more traditionally code-of-honor based Vory. While Svarog instituted a great deal of change in the Mafiya, he felt they were still too hidebound, not as ambitious as he was. That was when he discovered the Ring. They were visionaries. They had the means to make real change in the world. What they needed were men like Svarog to give them the drive they needed. What Svarog needed was a man like Manhovski to provide his soldiers with the technology to give them an edge.

"Understood. As it turned out, Mister Manhovski made it very easy to find him again."

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"Chuck, wait," Sarah yelled as her asset started running up the steps, taking them two at a time.

"He's got Morgan," Chuck yelled back as he burst through the door out into the Orange Orange, Sarah hot on his heels. As he entered the store, Sarah grabbed his wrist.

"Chuck, don't-"

A thousand red-tinged images flashing through his field of vision.

Three kanji- ai, ki and do.

Sarah's eyes went wide as she suddenly felt Chuck's fingers on her own wrist and the next thing her mind could comprehend was that she was lying flat on her back, quickly accompanied by the sound of the door opening.

"Chuck," Sarah croaked out as she turned to see him running across the parking lot just as she heard Casey moving towards her.

"What happened," he asked, holding out his hand for her to take. Sarah slapped her palm into his and hoisted herself up.

"Not now," Sarah snapped, dashing out the door and trying to snag the keys in her pocket to override the Nerd Herder as Chuck started to pull away. If Casey noticed her hand trembling as she pulled out the key and tried to stop their boy, he didn't say anything. If he noticed that the redness around her wrist was matching the redness starting to form in her eyes, he didn't bring it up.

"Roger that," was all he said as Chuck's Nerd Herder peeled out onto the street and out of sight.

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They say just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. As Chuck drove towards the pier, considering the prospect of losing his best friend and possibly his own life as well, their friendship flashed before his eyes.

He remembered walking through the halls in eighth grade and Jimmy "the Dill" Pickle's fondness for tripping Morgan. All the wonderful nicknames- "Oompa-Loompa," "Spanish Smurf," "Organ," and "the Hobbit." Actually, Morgan didn't mind the last one.

He remembered Morgan covering up his face and crotch whenever the girls beat him up. There were long afternoons of Metal Gear and Prince of Persia, terrifying Fourth of July celebrations and pre-Shai-Hulud Halloween costumes.

Mostly he remembered Morgan being there for him when his mom left her family. Then years later, Morgan was there when his dad did the same.

Before he realized it, Chuck was running down the boardwalk towards the arcade. He skidded to a halt as he heard his name being called. Looking over, his eyes widened at seeing an angry, deranged-looking Laszlo standing a step behind his friend. His friend who had a terrified look on his face and a vest of C4 on his chest.

… _Somethin' filled up_

… _my heart with nothin'_

… _someone told me not to cry._

"Didn't think you'd see me again, did ya Chuck," Laszlo asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"No," Chuck croaked, his eyes glued to Morgan, pleading for understanding, pleading for his trust, pleading for a miracle. "J-just let him go. He has nothing to do with this, Laszlo."

"I was free, Chuck," Laszlo snarled. "I was free from **them**! I thought you were my friend! But you took that from me."

… _But now that I'm older_

… _my heart's colder_

… _and I can see that it's a lie._

Laszlo cocked his head and looked at the quivering man before him.

"Now I'm going to take that from you."

Chuck didn't look over his shoulder as he heard Sarah and Casey running up behind him. His attention was just briefly drawn to the sounds around him. The music still playing through the arcade's sound system. The other people on the pier, blissfully unaware of the danger around them. Morgan crying with a bomb on his chest, torn away from that innocence by a man bent on revenge.

… _Children wake up,_

… _hold your mistake up,_

… _before they turn the summer into dust._

"S-Sarah? Casey," Morgan moaned in disbelief, seeing his best friend's girlfriend and his own arch nemesis moving towards them, guns in hand.

… _If the children don't grow up,_

… _our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up._

… _We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms turnin' every good thing to rust.  
… I guess we'll just have to adjust._

"Let him go, Laszlo," Sarah ordered, glancing over at Chuck as she stepped closer. She had to get Chuck away. If the bomb went off, he was too close. He'd be killed as well. It just made her wonder what Laszlo was waiting for.

"Not going to happen," Laszlo grinned maniacally. "See, because I got this idea from **you**, Chuck! I know how much you love to play the hero, so here's your chance. I've hidden another bomb in the arcade. Y'know, where all the kids are? Let die your best friend… or suffer the little children.

"So choose," Laszlo cried and pushed the button, starting the clock on Morgan's chest to start counting down from sixty seconds.

… _With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'_

… _I can see where I am goin' to be_

… _when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand._

Chapter 3 – Under Pressure


	3. Under Pressure

**Chapter 3 – Under Pressure**

"Willem Dafoe, eat your heart out," Laszlo smirked as he started to run, just before a bullet clipped his leg and he stumbled.

"You're no Osborn, and I ain't Spider-Man. So I got no problem with putting a bullet through your brain. In fact, I'm gettin' a little twitchy seeing as how I ain't shot anybody in awhile. Tell me where the other bomb is, egghead, or I might just go Punisher on you," Casey snarled, pressing the hot barrel to the back of Laszlo's head.

"Chuck, you get anything," Sarah questioned as her asset stood in front of Morgan, trying to figure out the C4 strapped to his chest.

"No," Chuck gritted out, looking at the wires and trying to ignore the quickly decreasing time limit. Looking to the side of the display, he noticed a serial number, SD6.

A red-tinted image of the American flag.

Schematics for the dismantling of an SD6-series bomb.

The American flag.

"Casey! Toss me the trigger!"

Casey looked at Chuck for a moment like he'd lost his mind, shoving Laszlo down on the wooden slats of the boardwalk.

"Now, Casey," Chuck shouted, trying to put as much urgency and command into his voice as he could muster. Without a second thought, Casey grabbed the remote detonator from where Laszlo dropped it and tossed an underhanded throw, landing the device right in Chuck's hands. Chuck dropped to the ground and cracked the housing open. Glancing at the timer, he opened the remote and found the microprocessor inside. Pulling the miniature screwdriver from his shirt pocket, Chuck loosened the wires attached to the signal relay and then crossed them. Pushing the button, he let go of the breath he'd been holding as the counter stopped at two seconds.

"You flashed," Sarah asked with an amazed smile, helping Morgan out of the vest.

"Yeah," Chuck panted, his brow furrowed. "I think so."

* * *

Casey glanced over to where Sarah and Chuck were huddled close together, no doubt discussing their lady feelings. The Major had spent the better part of two years protecting the moron and listening to his nattering on to anyone that would pay attention, which didn't include Casey.

As he glanced over at Morgan, he had to admit that Bartowski did good work. He'd saved the mini-geek's life. With quick thinking, and no doubt more than a little help from the Intersect, Chuck had managed to defuse two bombs. At this point, the geek was racking up a better tally for bomb disposal than he was.

"I hate this assignment," Casey groused as he oversaw the cleanup crew.

* * *

_People on streets - ee da de da de da de da  
It's the terror of knowing  
What this world is about  
_

"Are you going to go talk to Morgan," Sarah asked as she leaned against the rail next to Chuck. He paused from listening to the music to look over at her wearily.

"And tell him what? Sorry for almost getting you killed?"

_Watching some good friends  
Screaming 'Let me out'  
Pray tomorrow - gets me higher high high  
Pressure on people - people on streets  
_

"It's not your fault, Chuck," Sarah said, laying a hand on his arm.

_Turned away from it all like a blind man  
Sat on a fence but it don't work  
Keep coming up with love  
but it's so slashed and torn  
_

"Actually, it is. Laszlo wanted to hurt me because I betrayed him. So he tried to kill my best friend. How exactly is that not my fault?"

"You didn't turn Laszlo into a monster and you didn't put a bomb on Morgan. You saved his life," she replied, strongly emphasizing his heroism. "You're a hero, Chuck, and I think Morgan, of all people, will recognize that."

_Why - why - why ?  
Love love love love love  
Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking  
_

"Even if you can't," she finished with a soft smile, her eyes looking on him kindly as his gaze was fixed on his shaken friend.

_Can't we give ourselves one more chance  
_

* * *

With his hands in his pockets and his head bowed slightly, Chuck stepped over to where Casey was debriefing Morgan.

"… and you know what that means if this gets out, right?"

"No more grape soda?"

"That's right," Casey growled and glared at Chuck. "He's all yours, Bartowski. Beat some sense into him. Please."

"You okay," Chuck asked after a long, awkward pause.

"Yeah. Nearly getting blown up, not exactly on my to-do list for today…."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Chuck replied, scuffing his shoe on the wooden plank beneath his foot. "Nearly getting you killed wasn't on mine either."

Morgan looked up and for the first time saw the weight that had rested on his friend's shoulders for the last year and a half, for the first time realizing what it was.

"So do you have a codename?"

Chuck looked up at him, befuddled.

"What?"

"You know, like Snake-Eyes? Duke? Ooh, or a number? Oh one oh?"

* * *

Sarah smiled as she watched Chuck and Morgan talking at the end of the boardwalk. Morgan was gesticulating wildly, enthused about something and Chuck was just beaming. Sarah couldn't say much about Morgan, but one thing he definitely could be called was resilient. She looked down as her phone rang and saw the General calling.

"Walker, secure."

"I understand the Laszlo situation has been resolved."

"Yes, Chuck was able to defuse the bomb. Morgan Grimes has been partially compromised, but I believe it's not a problem. We can handle it."

There was a pause that began to form a knot of worry in Sarah's stomach.

"How exactly did the asset defuse the bomb," the General asked guardedly, throwing up a warning signal in Sarah's mind.

"I believe he flashed on it, General. He was able to crack open the housing on the trigger and give it an override command."

"I wasn't aware that Mister Bartowski had knowledge of proper bomb disposal."

"He doesn't," Sarah answered, the knot in her stomach intensifying. "Is there a problem?"

The long pause didn't help to settle her worries.

"No. Keep an eye on the asset's friend. Make sure he doesn't talk."

Sarah frowned as she hung up the phone and watched Chuck's loquacious friend excitedly gesturing with his hands, pantomiming something exploding.

"Morgan, not talk? Yeah right," she murmured. When Chuck looked her way and gave her his most endearing smile, telling her everything was okay, all she could do was smile in return, and lie.

* * *

Vincent winced as the piece of shrapnel lodged in his cheek shifted and he looked back up at the leaders of the Ring shrouded in darkness.

"Manhovski will be dealt with," Svarog stated.

"Understood. As it turned out, Mister Manhovski made it very easy to find him again. After an ill-advised attempt to destroy a Los Angeles pier, he was apprehended by the CIA."

"Contact Manhovski again," Artemis ordered. "See what he knows about Carmichael, if anything. If he won't work with us, or deliver Agent Walker, kill him."

* * *

"I knew there was something off about that guy," Morgan exclaimed, causing Chuck to smile. They had left the pier for the safety of the Buy More where Morgan was working out his scheduled shift, following a scolding from Big Mike.

"I mean Casey is all sorts of creepy and totally obsessed with you. I always thought he was aiming for the best friend position, but never realized he was… double oh scary."

"Yeah, you should probably keep that down," Chuck said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation.

"Sorry Chuck," Morgan replied, also glancing around but in a much less surreptitious manner. "This spy stuff is new to me."

"Well, it usually helps if you don't mention it every five minutes," Chuck replied with a furtive grin.

"Sorry," Morgan replied, and went back to leaning against the Nerd Herder desk, scanning the room with his tough guy look.

"What's wrong with him," Casey asked, walking up to the desk and looking at Morgan.

"I'm keeping an eye out," Morgan replied in a conspiratorial tone.

"You look constipated," Casey smirked and then looked at Chuck. "Come on, we got a debriefing."

Casey headed off to the Orange Orange with Chuck in tow, only to realize that Morgan had tagged along a moment later.

"Hey, where we going?"

"You're going back to work," Casey stated and gave him a shove back towards the store.

"C'mon! I'm part of the team now, right?"

Chuck looked at Casey with a bit of apprehension and hope. He wasn't sure what was going to happen with his little buddy now and neither Sarah nor Casey had given any indication.

"If we need someone to piss his pants and Chuckles isn't available, we'll let you know," Casey smirked and pointed back to the store. "Now, get lost."

Chuck frowned as Morgan turned and started walking back, bringing back memories of him being left out when the kids at school played sports at recess. He had that same look, the slumped shoulders, sad pout and doleful eyes. So Chuck did the only thing he could do, the same thing that he'd done since they were kids.

"Morgan?"

"Yeah, Chuck," Morgan replied, turning around, looking hopeful.

"Cry uncle?"

Morgan's grin wasn't as wide as it used to be, not as reassuring, but it was there.

"You're on."

"What was that about," Casey asked, narrowing his eyes at Chuck as they turned back to the Orange Orange.

"Oh, nothing," Chuck replied with an enigmatic smile. "Just spy talk."

* * *

Sarah sat at the table cleaning her gun. To Casey, she looked focused on what she was doing. To Chuck, she looked worried.

"Hey Sarah," Chuck beamed at her, sitting down across the table. "How 'bout Morgan, huh! I think he's doing fine with this whole spy thing."

"I'm sure," Sarah replied with a practiced smile, sliding the clip back into her gun. Chuck frowned slightly at her clipped response and trademark masked expression, always hiding something behind a gentle gaze and a sweet smile. He had grown accustomed to that look, the one he nicknamed 'the Sarah.' He associated it with her protecting him from things she thought he shouldn't know. The one that let him know that when she said things were going to be fine, she wasn't convinced they would be. As much as he disliked that look sometimes, it paled in comparison for how he loathed 'the Agent Walker.' That blank, emotionless mask she used whenever anything resembling true feelings might emerge. Because at least with the Sarah, it showed that she cared.

Chuck looked up as the monitor came on and showed General Beckman at her desk, eyes narrowed and looking over the group until her gaze came to rest on him.

"Mister Bartowski," she stated in that scolding tone that reminded him of his sixth-grade English teacher, Miss Cavendish. "I understand that you have yet again endangered yourself and the Intersect by attempting to disarm a bomb. This kind of reckless behavior will force me to put you in a bunker if you cannot control these impulses."

"With all due respect General, I didn't **attempt** to disarm a bomb. I **did** disarm it," Chuck replied indignantly. "Secondly, I saved the lives of everyone on that pier, including Sarah and Casey. I never ask for anything, General, but a thank you for once would be… nice."

"And how did you disarm the bomb," the General asked, ignoring his objection.

"I… I just flashed," he answered, looking over at Sarah and sighing when he saw the Agent Walker firmly in place.

"Which is not something that the Intersect was built to do," Beckman replied. "Raw data was programmed into that computer. Not a given skill-set."

Chuck managed to shrug, making it a lot more casual than he felt.

"I don't know what to tell you, General. I flashed and it showed me the schematics for the bomb and how to disarm it. I knew how to save my friends and so I took that chance. I'm sorry to risk your precious Intersect, but I can't just… stay in the car when the people I care about are threatened."

The General stared at him evenly for a long time before responding.

"Thank you, Mister Bartowski. That will be all."

"Is that a thank you for saving the day," Chuck asked, sounding a little cheekier and braver than he actually felt. The sound of a suppressed snort from Casey just helped ease the knot in his stomach.

"You are dismissed," the General gritted out, pushing back her frustration at the asset as Chuck rose. He glanced at his friends, encouraged by what he was pretty sure was pride on Casey's face, and disheartened by seeing the Agent Walker on Sarah's. Shoulders slumped, Chuck headed up the stairs and back to work.

* * *

"The asset is becoming a serious problem," the General stated to the two agents standing at attention now. "Now, can you keep him under control or not?"

"General, Chuck is very dedicated to his family and friends. I believe that it's not a lack of impulse control on his part. It's having… too many principles," Sarah explained, trying not to let the wistfulness be heard in her voice. "Chuck's a good man. He won't stop throwing himself into things whenever I'm…."

She paused and glanced at Casey.

"Whenever either of us are endangered."

"Then I see no option other than to put the asset into 24-hour custody. Major Casey, I want-"

"General, I apologize, but I don't think that's a viable option either," Sarah interjected. "Chuck is too… attached to his life here. If he were taken away from his friends and his sister, I don't think he'd be cooperative or receptive to aiding us like he has been the past year."

"Then what do you recommend, Agent Walker," Beckman asked with no small amount of irritation in her voice. "We cannot have the Intersect lost because of… a civilian's delusions of grandeur."

"I'm not exactly sure delusions of grandeur is…" Sarah began to object, but trailed off at the look the General was giving her. "My point is that Chuck is willing to risk his own life for ours. If he had something more to risk, then I think he wouldn't be so prone to jumping into conflicts."

"What do you propose," Beckman asked guardedly.

"Chuck has on more than one occasion pointed out that he's doing this for free. If he was brought on board, then he'd be risking his job by going into the field. Chuck is a very dedicated individual, he takes his work seriously."

"Are you recommending Chuck Bartowski for the CIA," Beckman asked with a little incredulity.

"No ma'am. FBI Cyber Division. I have a friend in the Bureau and I know that they're interested in the Intersect project. If Chuck could be placed in Cyber Division, he'd have a sense of being able to do some good. He could protect the country against hackers and viruses, things he's been doing for the last five years but for the general public."

"And it means we'd have access to the FBI databases as well," Beckman said thoughtfully. "I'll give it some consideration, Agent Walker. Very well, for the time being, Chuck remains there. Consider yourselves benched until I get an answer from the Bureau. I don't want the Intersect risking himself on another mission if we can avoid it."

"Yes ma'am," Sarah and Casey replied, the former gratefully, the latter resignedly.

* * *

Chuck closed the door behind him and smiled on seeing his sister and Captain Awesome reclining on the sofa.

"Hey Chuck. Good day at work?"

"Hey sis," Chuck sighed and dropped his satchel at the end of the sofa. "Stressful. Evil geniuses, bombs, friends in danger. The usual."

"Uh-huh. Speaking of, Morgan's in your room and if he keeps coming in through that window, **he's** going to be in danger."

"I'll talk to him," Chuck said with a smile, heading down the hall. Stepping inside, he saw Morgan loading the first disc of the Man from U.N.C.L.E. complete series.

"Chuck, we are on for the Double Affair."

"Ah yes. The notorious THRUSH agent replacing Solo through plastic surgery."

"Yep, gotta love a classic! Then, the Project Strigas Affair."

Chuck smiled and flopped onto his bed.

"With Shatner and Nimoy! God, I'd almost forgotten about that episode."

"I still say Next Gen is better than TOS."

"Don't make me hurt you," Chuck grumped and started up the U.N.C.L.E. marathon.

* * *

"Day day de mm hm… dad a dab ba ba… chippin' around- kick my brains around the floor," Laszlo hummed as he was led into the interrogation cell.

"These are the days it never rains but it pours," he finished with an umph as he was shoved into a chair. "Nice talkin' to ya!"

Laszlo smirked at his jailor before looking up briefly at his visitor. Scratching the red sore forming around his wrist from where the handcuffs were chaffing, he smiled with a slightly unhinged look to his bloodshot eyes.

"You ever had a song stuck in your head? Just tumbling around in there and no matter what you do you can't take a drill to it and release the bad humours? Did you bring one with you? Or a trephine? I'll settle for that. Is that how you're gonna bust me out this time? Drill through the walls?"

"That depends on you, Mister Manhovski," Vincent replied and slid a couple pictures across the table. "It depends on what you can tell me about this man."

Laszlo took one look at the picture taken of Chuck at the Meadow Branch subdivision and a picture taken at the pier. He looked back up at Vincent and smiled.


	4. You're gonna go far kid

Warning: Some language in this chapter.

**Chapter 4 – You're Gonna Go Far, Kid**

**Cast of Characters**

**Kirk Acevedo as Agent Peter Leamas**

**Joshua Alba as Miguel**

… _You're getting better all the time  
… And turning all against the one  
… Is an art that's hard to teach_

… _Another clever word  
… Sets off an unsuspecting herd  
… And as you step back into line  
… A mob jumps to their feet_

… _Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance_

… _And no one even knew, it was really only you  
_

Chuck looked up from his desk as he heard the grating dissonance of Emmett Milbarge's voice calling to him and pulled out the earbuds from his iPhone out of his ears.

"Yes, Emmett?"

"Chuck. Round up your herders. I want to talk about the new install policy."

"What new policy," Chuck rebutted.

"The one that Big Mike and I just came up with. So round 'em up, cowboy," Emmett said with a smug smile and an exaggerated motion as if he was lassoing in a cow. Chuck frowned at the assistant manager as he sauntered away, inordinately pleased with himself.

* * *

Sarah sat at the table in Castle, filling in her report on the Laszlo incident. Her pen was poised over the line questioning the asset's performance in the latest mission.

_Sarah's eyes went wide as she suddenly felt Chuck's fingers on her own wrist and the next thing her mind could comprehend was that she was lying flat on her back, quickly accompanied by the sound of the door opening. _

"_Chuck," Sarah croaked out as she turned to see him running across the parking lot just as she heard Casey moving towards her._

She hadn't mentioned his attack in the Orange Orange to the General before and she was hesitant to put it in the report now. She had just barely managed to keep Chuck out of the bunker this time. That was because he knew how to defuse a bomb. If they learned he had combat skills….

Sarah sighed, setting her pen down and rubbing her eyes. He had taken her completely by surprise. Not only had she never expected Chuck to attack, but she never thought he would attack **her**. It was so unlike him. She was just happy that no one had seen him do it.

Sarah's eyes snapped open as she glanced upstairs. She did a quick mental evaluation of where the cameras were located and the views they had of the floor. Letting out a soft curse, she realized it was only a matter of time. Beckman would review those tapes eventually and she'd see what Chuck had done.

Her eyes shot to the screen as the General came online.

_Speak of the Devil_, Sarah thought before addressing her out loud, hoping that the sound of fear in her voice wasn't noticeable.

"Agent Walker, I wanted to let you know that Chuck has been cleared by the FBI but he will have to go through the hiring process, including top secret security clearance."

Sarah forced a smile, trying to keep her tone light.

"Ma'am, Chuck is this country's top secret, does he really need to go through top secret clearance?"

"Procedures, Agent Walker," Beckman replied exasperatedly. "Speaking of, I'm still expecting your report from the last mission."

"Working on it now, General."

It took a moment for Sarah to realize the General signed off without comment about the video. _Just a matter of time_, Sarah thought again and glanced at the clock before picking up the phone.

"Petey? It's Sarah Walker. Yeah, it has been a long time. Hey, I need a favor. Ha, you're a funny guy. No, you owe **me** one. Remember Times Square? Yeah, the thing with the poodle. Thought you'd remember that," she said with a smile. "Look, I've got… an asset who I think is a good candidate for Cyber Division. And time's critical on this. How fast could you turn the gears on bringing him onboard?"

Sarah talked on the phone and worked on her plan while staring at the clock, wishing she could make it stop or even turn back like the chubby little Asian guy on that show Chuck makes her watch on Mondays. She smiled as she thought how the little guy often reminded her of Chuck. A little geeky- sorry, nerdy- with a big heart and being an unlikely hero.

"Sorry Pete. Yeah, I heard you," Sarah sighed, trying to push aside the stray thoughts of her asset and his heroism, and instead focus on doing what she could do to be **his** hero.

* * *

… _And now you steal away_

… _Take him out today_

… _Nice work you did_

… _You're gonna go far, kid_

Chuck pulled the ear buds back out as the assistant manager started pacing in front of the line of Nerd Herders, a satisfied grin on his face.

"It has come to Michael's attention that some of you are using your offsite installs… for nefarious purposes."

His effete, wrathful gaze then turned on Jeff's bloodshot eyes and Lester's shifty gaze as he stood before them.

"Having other people fill in forms for the both of you when you're off getting drunk," Emmett attempted to snarl, but sounding more like a petulant child. He then turned a narrowed gaze on Chuck, who was trying to not freak out. "Or going God knows where."

He then glanced at Anna and muttered under his breath, "Or doing God knows who."

Emmett smirked and started pacing again, trusting that he had his employees pissing themselves, which, in Jeff's case, was just a matter of time.

"So the new policy will be that you check in with me when you arrive at your install. I'll request to speak with your customer so that I can ensure that you're both there," he said pointedly to Jeff and Lester.

"I'm… not sure that's necessary, Emmett."

"Why's that, Bartowski," Emmett questioned with a predatory gleam in his eyes, turning to look at Chuck. "I have to make sure everyone's where they're supposed to be. Or… are you trying to _**hide**_ _**something**_?"

Chuck smiled nervously.

"N-no. Not me. What could I have to hide?"

"What indeed," Emmett retorted. "Policy starts today."

Chuck frowned as he watched the assistant manager stride away, glancing over as his bearded friend hopped up on the Nerd Herder desk.

"Man, Big Mike is becoming Big Brother."

"I think it's more like Big Emmett," Chuck grumbled, pulling up the list of calls on his computer. "Thoughtcrime is death."

Morgan's eyes widened as he looked around.

"Don't worry, Chuck. I know what to do," Morgan said, causing his friend to look up at him in concern.

"Morgan… what are you…?"

"Hope lies in the proles, Chuck," Morgan said in a conspiratorial tone. "Hope lies in the proles."

* * *

"Moron, line 1."

Chuck looked up from his computer to glare at the disembodied voice of John Casey coming over the PA system. Shaking his head, he picked up the receiver.

"Nerd Herd, this is Chuck. How may I help you?"

As he started writing up the install request, he noticed through his peripheral vision someone step up to the counter.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," Chuck stated, quickly jotting down the last of the details of his assignment.

"Now, how can I help you," he said amiably, the smile wavering as he focused on a couple of men dressed in dark suits with sunglasses. He'd seen enough of the type to recognize a G-man when he saw one.

"Chuck Bartowski," the shorter man asked with a Jersey accent. He had pock marks on his face from what looked to be a really horrible case of acne when he was younger. His suit was a little rumpled and his crooked tie didn't really lend the same professional air that Chuck was accustomed to when dealing with government operatives. Maybe he was actually with organized crime.

"Uh…" Chuck began, glancing around to find Casey. "Yeah. That's me."

Chuck's eyes widened as the man reached into his jacket, revealing the handle of a gun. His eyes then narrowed in confusion as the man pulled out a card instead and held it out.

"I'm Agent Peter Leamas with the Federal Bureau of Intelligence, Cyber Division. We saw your resume and wanted to see if you'd be interested in interviewing for a position with us."

Chuck looked at the card in a stupor and then back up at Agent Leamas.

"Um… wow. I… are you sure you've got the right Chuck Bartowski," he asked and then laughed nervously. "Well, of course you do. You're the FBI! And… how many Chuck Bartowski's can there be? I mean, it's not exactly a common name like Smith or Brown, is it? I imagine you'd have a lot harder time trying to track down a Chuck Brown. Or a… sorry, I'm rambling."

Agent Leamas smiled good-naturedly and pointed to the card.

"I'm sure you'll need some time to think it over. That's got my work and cell numbers on there. Call me anytime if you have questions, Chuck. I look forward to working with you."

"Uh… yeah. Thanks," Chuck answered as the two agents turned to leave, passing Casey as he headed to the Herd desk.

"That the Feds?"

"Okay, either they have G-man stamped on their heads, which… they kinda do, or you guys knew something about this. Did you or Sarah recommend me for Cyber Division?"

"Me? Recommend you for a real job," Casey smirked and Chuck frowned at his snide comment.

"Sarah then," he replied, sliding off the stool and stepping out from behind the desk.

* * *

Sarah sat on the counter of the Orange Orange bouncing gummi bears off the nearest tabletop and trying to land them in the cup. So far, despite all their elasticity and rubbery goodness, she was finding that gummi bears didn't make very good projectiles for indirect fire. But she had grown tired of tossing them straight into the cup, so bouncing seemed like the most logical way to escalate this game to something challenging. She looked up as the door opened and smiled as her asset walked in.

"Chuck! You on lunch?"

"No," he replied with a smile, looking at the floor and tabletop covered with gummi bears. "Looks like you've been busy."

Sarah rolled her eyes and jumped off the counter, causing her body to move in such a way that sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through Chuck's body. Quickly followed by a flush of embarrassment.

"Right. I've had one customer all week. You have no idea how bored I am," she replied, having missed his attention to her movements.

"Oh. I've got **some** idea," Chuck said with a wry grin, brushing a few gummi bears off the table and into his hand, so as to avoid looking at her for a moment. "So… I had an interesting visit just now."

"Uh-huh," Sarah replied innocently, picking up the broom and starting to sweep up.

"Agent Peter Leamas, FBI Cyber Division. Said they saw my resume and wanted me to apply for a position."

"Wow. That's great, Chuck," she replied, trying not to smile, as she swept up the candies.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Cyber Division? They pursue hackers, online sexual predators, internet fraud…."

"I meant, would you know anything about them coming to see me?"

"Oh! That," Sarah replied with a grin, turning to face him. "Maybe."

"Sarah? Me working for the FBI? Are you for real?"

Sarah looked up at him and gone was the smile, in its place was a new look. One he couldn't quite place.

"Do you have a bachelor's in computer technology," she asked, holding up a finger to enumerate her point.

"Um… yeah. Thanks to you."

"Can you deal with viruses and hackers?"

"Well… yeah. It's my job to-"

"Do you not want to protect this country from terrorists, hackers and other threats? Do you not want to protect our children from online predators," she asked, holding up a third finger.

"**Our** children?"

"America's children," Sarah quickly amended, not meeting his gaze. "Don't you want to make a difference? Or do you want to remain a Nerd Herder for the rest of your life?"

"Okay… that… was a little below the belt. I don't **want** to stay at the Buy More…."

"Then at least consider it. You have a rare gift, Chuck," she said, meeting his gaze again with a look in her eyes that made his hopes soar. "You're meant for better things than the Buy More."

Chuck smiled and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek before heading back to the Buy More. He wasn't entirely sure yet what the meaning was behind her new mask, but he was going to call it 'the girlfriend.'

* * *

"The great thing about the Two Phase Plan is not that one is obliged to play a part," Morgan explained to the gathered Green Shirts and Nerd Herders. "But that it is impossible to avoid joining in."

"Morgan… what are you talking about," Miguel, the newest Green Shirt, asked.

"I'm talking about persecution, mi hermano latino. I'm talking about sexual repression," Morgan exclaimed. Fernando looked suddenly nervous, like he was about to be the center of attention.

"I'm talking about censorship! Big Emmett is trying to take away our God-given right to drink on company property," Morgan exclaimed and Jeff nodded solemnly.

"Big Emmett is trying to take away our God-given right to goof off and not get work done," Morgan declared and Lester shook his head sadly, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"Big Emmett is trying to take away our freedom!"

"Freedom is the freedom to say two plus two makes five," Jeff said with passion.

"Four, Jeffrey," Lester corrected.

"If that is granite, all else floats."

Jeff's statement was followed by looks of confusion, a few snickers, and a grunt.

"Let's… ignore Jeff…."

"More often" Anna asked.

"For the moment, and just return to what I was saying. Emmett's taking away the liberties of the Nerd Herders. That's where it starts, my brothers. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. At the top with a small thing that loyal peons wouldn't make noise over."

Morgan shook his head wearily, slumping into a chair next to Anna and completely aware that he had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. He quickly closed his hand around the bag of chips he was carrying, lest Jeff make that literal.

"After I heard this awful… _**faith-shattering**_ news, I was just devastated. We have placed our faith in the Man all these years…"

Miguel cleared his throat.

"Or hours… and to what end? Have our freedom taken away? How could they _**do**_ this to us? How could Big Brother become a Big Bother? My faith was shaken, I'm sad to say," Morgan said with a lump in his throat, smiling gratefully at Anna as she rubbed his shoulder in response to his lamentation. "So I asked myself, WWCD. And the answer came from the man himself, my brothers. Thoughtcrime is death."

Morgan reached into his bag and pulled out The Book.

"I want you all to join our Brotherhood, my fellow proles. We have to show Big Emmett that we are free men-"

"And women," Anna said.

"And gorgeous women," Morgan amended. "Today is the first day of our perpetual war against BuyMoria."

"War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, and Ignorance is Strength," Lester said with a self-assured smile.

"And we're the strongest people in the Buy More," Jeff replied with that same confidence.

* * *

"Burbank Buy More, Assistant Manager Emmett Millbarge speaking, how may I help you?"

Emmett's eyes lit up as he received the first phone call from the new policy.

"Ah, thank you for calling us, Miss Calhoun. And Skip Johnson is there now? Yes, yes. Good. Well, thank you, ma'am. May I speak with Skip now?"

"One moment," Lester said in a falsetto voice, pushing the button to transfer the call to Skip's cell, smiling all the while.

Morgan nodded his head and bumped fists with the Indian Nerd Herder. Lester looked down as the phone rang again.

"Anna?"

"Yeah, I'm pulling up to the store now. What's the order?"

"For Morgan, sizzling shrimp and any grape or fruity drink they've got."

"Not fruity," Morgan griped. "Grape soda. Do bring grape soda, or do not. There is no fruity drink."

"Whatever Moda. For Jeffrey, Kung Pao Cat."

"Do you mean chicken?"

"He said cat," Lester replied with a dour expression. "But his tastes buds are so burned out that he can't tell the difference. Get him the chicken."

"Right."

"And I'll have anything kosher."

"Um… it's Chinese. I don't think it's kosher, but I'll ask. You going to call Big Emmett?"

"We've got you covered, sister," Lester replied and smiled as he dialed Emmett's number again. "Mister Millberg? Oh sorry, Mulebarge. This is Carl Craft at the Rossom Corporation calling about your employee, Anna Wu."

Morgan smiled and nodded at Miguel.

"Time for Phase Two."

* * *

When Ellie came home, she was surprised to find Chuck pulling his suit out of the closet.

"Taking Sarah out somewhere nice?"

Chuck turned and smiled at his sister, laying the suit on his bed.

"No. I've got a job interview in Washington."

"Wow Chuck," Ellie replied with astonishment. "That's great! Does Sarah know about this?"

"Yeah," he replied with a grin, returning Ellie's hug. "She's kinda the one who set it up."

Ellie's excitement was quickly replaced with the somber realization that her little bird may be leaving their nest.

"So… Washington? That's far away, isn't it," she stated.

"On the other coast actually," Chuck replied, taking Ellie's hand again. "But the interview's in Washington. Hopefully, I'll be able to work out of the division here in LA. Assuming I get the job."

Ellie looked immediately relieved, as she sat down on the edge of Chuck's bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit.

"You'll get it. What company?"

"Uh," Chuck trailed off, wondering if he could tell her. The job wasn't exactly classified. It had nothing to do with the Intersect. As Sarah had said, he had the qualifications for the job. It was a position that could've been his years ago, in a different life.

"Government actually. FBI Cyber Division."

At Ellie's excited squeal and jump into his arms again, Chuck's grin was wide and relieved. Until then, he hadn't realized just how much of a toll constantly lying to Ellie had been. It was a godsend to be able to share something real with her.

* * *

When Chuck was a senior in high school, he took his first airplane ride. He didn't remember much of it. He remembered staring out the window, brooding as he listened to the Downward Spiral CD and wondering why his dad had left them so suddenly.

Today, Chuck sat looking out the window as the plane began to take off and clutched the hand rests. He had been far too preoccupied to be nervous on his first flight. Today though, his nervousness already started at sweaty palms due to the upcoming interview and skyrocketed to muted, girlish screams as the 400 ton aircraft left the Earth.

"This… is… not… natural…" Chuck moaned as he watched the ground speed away from them.

"It's perfectly natural," Sarah reassured him, carefully prying his fingers off the armrest so she could hold his hand. "Airplanes are made to be in the air. They're actually sad when they're on the ground."

"They're sad," Chuck repeated with a grin, turning his attention away from the disturbing sight of the quickly disappearing ground and the shuddering of the plane. "Why are they sad?"

Sarah returned his smile, glad she could take his mind off of his fear. A role that she was becoming more accustomed to the longer she spent on this assignment. A role she was quite content to be in.

"Because they're called **air**-planes. Not groundplanes. Sitting on the ground, they're not doing what they're meant to."

"Where'd you come up with that," Chuck asked, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his.

"My dad," she answered, shifting her grip on his hand so that their fingers were interlocked.

"Did you fly much," he asked, wondering if Sarah was going to open up the door any more than she already had.

"Some," she replied, looking past him and out the window. "We can always switch places."

Chuck sighed as she shut the door again. At least this time, she didn't slam it in his face. He'd at least gotten a peak inside.

"No. I'm fine," he said, looking down at their hands. He instantly regretted it as the action seemed to remind Sarah that they were still holding onto each other and she withdrew, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, are you looking forward to the interview," she asked after an awkward pause, missing the pained look that briefly touched his eyes before Chuck went to looking out the window.

"I guess," he murmured, watching as the ground was getting further and further away, but not really seeing any of it. "I told Ellie that just because the interview's in Washington doesn't mean I'd be living there. Right?"

She smiled and nodded, shifting in her seat so she could look at him easily.

"That's right. Petey works out of the LA branch, so you'd be working with him."

"Petey, huh," Chuck questioned, smiling at her and wondering if he'd at least get another glimpse of the real Sarah or if she'd close that door again. "Friend of yours?"

"Yes, Chuck," she replied with a grin, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I do have friends."

"How'd you meet?"

Sarah shook her head and smiled ruefully.

"Ended up being a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing."

"You were fighting each other," he asked, filling in some of the blanks.

"Afraid so. I was tracking the same group he was. This was pre-9/11. It was one of those situations that, well…" Sarah glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "the Intersect was created to prevent."

"So, out of curiosity," Chuck began with a sly grin. "Do you meet all your friends and partners this way?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you pointed a gun at me when we first met. You pointed a gun at Casey. You pointed a gun at Carina. You pointed a gun at-"

"Funny," she retorted, punching him in the shoulder. "And for your information, Casey was trying to kill me and Carina was breaking into my hotel room."

"And me?"

"I had to control the situation," she said defensively. "If you ran, Casey would've shot you."

"So… you met Agent Leamas and you pointed your gun at him…" Chuck prompted with a grin. Sarah baiting wasn't as much fun as Casey baiting, but it was less dangerous. "What happened next?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes and Chuck gulped. He might have to reevaluate that less dangerous notion. Sarah had walked through the metal detectors at the airport, so he knew she didn't have any guns or knives on her. Or at least he hoped so.

"It's classified," she replied with a smirk. "All I can say is that Missy the poodle was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sarah didn't have Chuck's flair for playful banter, but she knew that withholding information would drive him crazy. She expected by the end of the flight, he'd be bouncing around like a kitten with catnip, desperate to find out what happened to poor Missy.

* * *

Chuck didn't disappoint. Sarah had to deflect ten different roundabout attempts he made to find out more about how she met Agent Leamas and what happened to Missy. She smiled as they disembarked from the plane, Chuck a step behind her.

"Seriously, Sarah, how could she be trained to deliver explosives? This is a poodle we're talking about!"

"Quiet, Chuck," she whispered, suppressing a grin as she turned to face him. "People can hear you."

"Sorry," he replied, glancing at the stewardess and smiling nervously at her as he passed by. "Wonderful flight!"

"Thank you for flying Oceanic Airlines. Have a safe return trip."

Chuck frowned as he followed Sarah up the ramp, images of the fiery crash of flight 815 flashing through his mind.

"Hey Sarah, can we **not** take Oceanic on the trip back? They don't exactly have the best record. They say they have a 'Perfect Safety Record,' but-"

"It'll be fine, Chuck," she reassured him, nodding to Peter who was waiting for them at the gate. "Hey Petey."

Peter shook Chuck's hand and rolled his eyes at Sarah.

"Saved this broad's ass a dozen times and still she calls me Petey. Surprised you flew Oceanic. You're braver than I thought, Walker," Peter said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"See!"

Peter just smirked and led the way through the concourse as Sarah glared daggers at the back of his head, Chuck doggedly espousing the virtues of driving over flying.

"Yes, we could've driven here," Sarah groused after a five minute exposition, "but it would've taken two days. You would've been late for the interview."

"Not the way you drive."

Sarah glared at Peter again as she heard a snort from him and noticed his shoulders shaking, trying to contain his laughter.

"Petey, I've got a gun."

"Really," Chuck exclaimed, looking shocked. "How'd you get it on the plane?"

"I'm a spy, Chuck," she retorted quietly, with a smirk. "It's what I do."

"Do you have one of those plastic pistols," Chuck pressed, much to Peter's amusement. "Or if one of your regular kinds, how'd you get it pass the metal detector? Did you do that little side flip thing, like Otto West?"

Both Sarah and Peter shot curious looks at Chuck, both feeling they should know the individual he was referencing through their experience in the intelligence community, but both were drawing a blank.

"Y'know… Kevin Kline's character in a Fish Called Wanda," Chuck explained without needing a prompt. "Fierce Creatures was pretty good, but it really didn't have the fun of the first one. Plus, no Otto."

Sarah shook her head and sped up to fall in step with Peter as Chuck lagged a little behind.

"I just wanted to thank you again for this, Peter. It means a lot."

"Let's see, not only do I get a brilliant new recruit into the division, but I also get to be the agent that brings the Intersect onboard. Sarah, I'm golden!"

Sarah smiled and glanced at Chuck as he caught up with them.

"So we're even?"

"Yep. That definitely makes up for Missy."

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that," Chuck piped in and Sarah had to suppress a grin. "How did a little poodle get involved with this bomb threat?"

Peter glanced at Sarah, caught her winking at him and nodded.

"Sorry, Chuck. Classified."

Sarah and Peter smiled at each conspiratorially as Chuck threw up his hands in frustration.

* * *

Chuck rubbed his hands on his pants for the third time since they'd walked into the secretary's office, waiting on the Assistant Director to see them.

"Nervous," Peter asked quietly, smiling.

"No," Chuck replied softly. "Maybe. A little."

"Nothing to worry about, Chuck. You've got a clean record and a four-year bachelor's degree. We'll need you to get a TS/SCI clearance. To do that, you'll have to pass a series of SSBIs conducted by the OPM. You'll also have to pass a PFT. That's all."

"Boy. The government sure loves its abbreviations."

Peter chuckled at that and clapped a hand onto Chuck's shoulder.

"You'll do fine, Chuck," Peter said as the secretary let them know that A.D. Skinner was ready to see them.

"Skinner? Really," Chuck asked as he stood. "Do you know Agents Mulder and Scully?"

At the secretary's blank expression, Chuck exclaimed, "C'mon! Has nobody here seen an episode of the X-Files? It was huge!"

"Well, there won't be any Cigarette Smoking Man in here," Peter assured as he opened the door.

"See, I'm glad somebody here knows what… I'm… talking about…" Chuck trailed off as he saw the Assistant Director.

"Mister Bartowski, thank you for coming in. Please, take a seat," Skinner greeted with a smile, gesturing to a chair.

"Hey, he looks a lot like David Duc-" Chuck began to whisper but was cut off.

"Shh. Not now," Peter interrupted as they took a seat.

* * *

"So, how'd it go," Sarah asked as Chuck exited the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

"Great," Chuck exclaimed, talking animatedly as they stepped into the rental car. Sarah smiled to herself. When Chuck became enthused about something, you couldn't help but be swept along with him. "Did you know that the Assistant Director of the FBI is a dead ringer for David Duchovny?"

"Who," Sarah replied, keeping the grin from her face. Chuck looked at her sharply as she took the turn onto Pennsylvania Avenue, his eyes narrowed.

"You're teasing me," he replied with a knowing smile. "I know because you have a tell."

"I don't have a tell," she huffed.

"You do," he grinned, looking out the window.

"So," she prompted when he lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"So, what? Am I going to reveal what your tell is?"

"No," she smirked. "Because I don't have one. Are you going to tell me how it went? Other than commenting on AD Duchovny."

"Okay. H-How about over dinner?"

"Are you asking me out on a second date," she asked warily after a long beat, taken aback by the turn of the conversation.

"Well, I figure it's either a third first date, a second second date or a first third date," Chuck replied with his trademark grin, attempting to make her smile and his own grin losing a bit of its strength when his attempt failed, his nervousness rocketing. He was glad he at least managed to keep his voice from cracking when he asked her out to dinner.

"Chuck," Sarah began and Chuck felt his heart clench. He knew that tone and he knew which objection she was about to voice.

"Sarah, don't. We've been doing this dance for over a year now. I'm… I've never known anyone quite like you. Lou, Jill, they don't compare. You're my kickass ninja girl," Chuck stated and warily watched a car that was passing nearby, missing the involuntary flush of pleasure that crossed Sarah's face. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Maybe he was flushed with the adrenaline of the interview. Maybe he was hyped about being in Washington D.C. But he was on a roll.

"I know you're afraid that crossing the line between asset and handler means we'll get too close. It'll put us at risk. But I'd never betray you, Sarah. Sure, FULCRUM could torture me and force me to confess the secret of Coca-Cola Zero, but they can't change the way I feel. They can't get inside you. They can't get to your heart."

It took a moment for Chuck to register that she said okay, because he couldn't hear her soft reply over the pounding of his heart. When it did sink in, his eyes widened and the brilliance of his smile returned. Sarah's eyes danced with mirth as she saw the boyish exuberance emanating from her asset. She knew she was compromised. That she should put in for a reassignment, but at this exact moment, all she cared about was the young man that had put his faith in her.

* * *

While Sarah made arrangements for pushing their flight back to the next day, Chuck made reservations at Filomena Ristorante in Georgetown. It was a little out of his price range, but as long as the new position came through, he figured he could afford it. Plus, it was Sarah.

Straightening his tie, Chuck smiled at himself in the mirror, reflecting on how things had changed. Almost two years ago, he had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror in his sister's apartment in an outfit his sister had picked out for him, working on a Buy More hourly wage, and preparing for a date with Sarah to the local Mexican restaurant. Today, he was wearing a suit for dinner at one of Washington's nicer establishments and being a potential recruit for the Federal Bureau of Investigations.

The best part was that Sarah wasn't going on a date with him for her mission. There was no hidden agenda. She said yes, because she wanted to. Adjusting his tie one last time, Chuck's smile widened at the thought of how his life had finally turned around.

* * *

Chuck stepped out of the elevator and glanced at the numbers on the wall before heading towards the room that Sarah was staying in. Adjusting the tie with one hand, he shifted his grip on the flowers to make sure they didn't slip due to his nervousness.

Knocking on the door, Chuck glanced down at himself and made one last adjustment to his tie.

"Hey Chuck," Sarah said with a smile, watching as he almost lost his grip on the flowers in his hand.

"Sa-Sarah," Chuck stuttered, his mouth suddenly dry as he took in the dress she was wearing. It reminded him of the one she wore with Bryce to the Van Hayes party except in that shade of blue that she always made look fabulous.

"You look… awesome," Chuck managed to get out and Sarah smiled softly as he grimaced at the use of the Devonism.

"Thank you, Chuck," she replied, touching his arm as she closed the door behind her, stepping out into the hall. "You're looking quite awesome yourself."

Chuck's easy grin returned and he stuck his elbow out in an open invitation. She smiled and looped her arm through his, walking towards the elevator with their arms linked.

"So Mister Bartowski, excited about your prospects?"

"I am, Miss Walker. I still need to do the whole physical fitness test, which… y'know, P.E. was a long time ago… but I think I've definitely got the running tests down," Chuck emphasized with a grin. "Plenty of experience with that over the last couple years!"

Sarah smiled and stepped into the elevator as it opened on their floor, nodding to the elderly couple inside.

"Good evening," Chuck greeted with a smile, checking that the button for the ground floor was already pushed.

"Good evening to you too, young man," the older woman greeted. "You and your lovely wife look quite charming."

"Oh! She's not my wife. We're… dating," Chuck nervously corrected and the woman blushed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! You just seemed so comfortable together. I assumed…."

"It's okay," Sarah stepped in, squeezing Chuck's arm. "Thank you. We're just going on a date."

"Well, you look just lovely, dear."

Chuck and Sarah stepped to the side of the elevator as it opened up on the ground floor, allowing the elderly couple to exit first.

"You two have a wonderful evening," the woman said as they parted ways in the lobby.

"You too," Chuck replied with a trademark grin as they got into the taxi and departed for the restaurant.

* * *

Sarah smiled as Chuck pulled out her chair for her.

"Thank you, Chuck," she said graciously, sitting down as he scooted in the chair behind her.

"You're welcome."

"Il benvenuto alla Filomena Ristorante," the waiter greeted as he stepped up to the table.

A thousand red-tinged images flashing through his field of vision.

A Concise Oxford Italian-English Dictionary entry.

"Grazie a voi, quali sono le offerte speciali di oggi?"

Sarah's eyes widened in surprise at Chuck's question and the waiter looked a little uncomfortable.

"Ye-ah… can I take your drink orders?"

Chuck had a bewildered expression on his face as he stared at the menu, trying to figure out what just happened, so Sarah picked up with their drink order. Once the waiter started to move away, she touched Chuck's hand, drawing his attention to her.

"When did you learn Italian?"

"I haven't. I just…."

"Flashed?"

"I… yeah."

"Like you did with the bomb," she prodded.

"Y-yeah?"

"And in the Orange Orange? When you got the drop on me?"

"I wanted to apologize about that," Chuck expressed regretfully. "I don't know. I've been watching you fight for almost two years now. During the summers, it's oddly slow, but the rest of the year it's practically once a week. You'd think I'd pick up something from watching you fight, right?"

Sarah looked at him skeptically as he tried to smile charmingly but the smile faded as his heart wasn't in it.

"This is bad, isn't it," he asked wearily, having already considered the implications of these new aspects to the Intersect.

"No," Sarah said, unconvincingly. "It's just… unexpected. We'll figure this out, Chuck."

"And we'll be figuring this out, outside of a bunker. Right," Chuck asked hopefully, the tremulous smile returning to his face.

"I'm not going to let that happen," she assured, squeezing his hand. "So don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," he objected.

"Your palms are sweaty," she pointed out and smiled sweetly at him, her heart warming as his patented Bartowski smile returned in full force. "Don't worry, Chuck. Everything's going to be fine."

* * *

Sarah closed the door to her hotel room and leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. There were some nights she wished that Bryce had never sent Chuck the Intersect. Missions used to be so much simpler before him. She never worried about the health and feelings of an asset before she met him. She started to smile as she remembered seeing that same elderly couple, James and Anette, come into the restaurant but being turned away because they didn't have reservations. She didn't think that she could possibly hold Chuck in higher esteem than she already did, but when he invited the couple over to join them, rather than be turned away hungry, her heart melted. She loved him that much more.

Sarah's eyes opened quickly as she remembered Roan Montgomery's rules from Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel. Most importantly, induce feelings of desire and love, but never fall prey to them yourself.

Sarah sighed and pushed herself off the door. Slipping out of her high heels as she walked across the room, she went to her laptop and logged in. The images of Beckman from her office and Casey at Castle popped up.

"Walker, report."

"Chuck performed well in the interview, as expected. He needs to go through the physical testing, but I'm confident he'll get the position."

"Major Casey, work with the asset once they return to Burbank to make sure of that. I don't want this opportunity to be wasted because of the asset's… lifestyle."

Casey grunted before replying with an affirmative. Sarah held her breath, waiting for the other Chuck Taylor to drop.

"Keep me informed," Beckman replied before logging off. Sarah blinked a moment and looked to Casey, but he had already logged out. Frowning, she patched back into the connection with Castle.

"What is it Walker," Casey asked as he turned back around to the screen.

"Are we secure?"

Casey narrowed his eyes at her before pressing a button on the console.

"Yeah?"

Sarah opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew she was walking a dangerous line by not reporting this information. She also knew that Casey was a stickler for rules and regulations. He would never-

"I deleted the footage from the Orange Orange, if that's what's got your panties in a twist."

Sarah threw him an icy look for a moment before it melted to confusion.

"You didn't...?"

"No. I back my partners play. Knew you were gonna try and protect the moron. And… Chuck would go nuts in a bunker."

Sarah's eyes twinkled and a smile touched her lips.

"Knew you cared about him."

Casey growled and cut off the connection. Sarah laughed softly and flopped on the bed, closing her eyes. That twisting sensation in her gut was lessening. Chuck was safe. For now.

**Special Guest Appearance: David Duchovny**

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay. Life's a bitch sometimes. I've already got a good start on the next chapter and hope to have more out soon. Thanks so much for the reviews.**

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay. Life's a bitch.**


	5. Touched

**Chapter 6 – Touched**

**A/N: This chapter contains some language.**

Chuck passed through the sliding doors of the Buy More and stopped, taking in the eerie lack of customers and the oppressive feel of the store. It had, in no small part, something to do with the extensive number of obvious cameras that had been installed, as well as the enormous posters plastered to the walls, most of them depicting Emmett with a condescending expression on his face and bold lettering denouncing such things as 'Welcome to Buymoria, Freedom is Slavery,' 'Work is Unevil' and 'Big Brother is Watching: Don't even Crimethink about shoplifting.'

Chuck's attention was drawn to the sound of a poster being torn down, and saw Emmett taking one off the wall that was showing the Assistant Manager promoting the Buy More Junior Anti-sex League.

"Bartowski," Emmett snarled as he stormed over to the gaping Chuck. "I suspect this was your doing."

"Me? I was in Washington."

"Washington," Emmett's eyes lit up, seeing an opportunity to write up the troublesome thoughtcrimin- **employee**. "Surely we didn't have an install in Washington?"

"No," Chuck said with a smile, a feeling of pride and profound relief flooding him at the words he was about to speak. "An interview. I'm getting a job with the F.B.I."

Emmett blinked in shock and Chuck noticed Jeff's head pop up from behind one of the displays, look at Chuck in fear and then suddenly disappear again.

"The Federal Bureau of Investigations?"

"Is there another F.B.I. I don't know of?"

"Careful Bartowski, I'll-"

"Do what," Chuck interrupted; finally glad he could speak his mind. "I'm quitting."

Emmett stood there sputtering as Chuck turned and headed to the lockers to get his personal belongings, passing by the poster of Emmett shaking hands with a forlorn, malnourished boy. Smaller photos surrounding them showed children in chains, digging in the mud, or picking up rocks with their stained, bleeding fingers. Underneath, large colorful lettering advertised the 'Buymoria Joycamp, Sign Up Now!'

He smiled on finding the majority of the Buy More crew, lounging in the breakroom and enjoying the freedom of the Brotherhood.

"Bad news, buddy," Chuck said, opening his locker. "I'm leaving the Buy More."

"Alright, X-Box tournament in the morning," Morgan replied with a satisfied grin.

"No," Chuck continued, grinning widely. "I'm quitting. The Buy More is no more."

"What? You can't quit! We're staging a revolution here! We can't go up against Big Emmett without our glorious leader to lead the charge!"

Chuck smiled and laid a hand on his panicky, bearded friend.

"Morgan, I didn't do all this. You did. The revolution is in good hands, buddy. Viva la resistance," Chuck said as he emptied his locker, the Brotherhood gathering around their leader for the next phase in the plan.

* * *

Chuck stepped out of the Buy More with a bit of a spring in his step, having forever left the mines of Buymoria. He smiled as he looked out at the clearish sky, only a hint of smog marring his perception of the beautiful day. Though, with a little bit of imagination, he could picture the smog as being low-lying clouds and-

"Wipe the stupid grin off your face, Bartowski," Casey groused as he headed towards the store. "Walker give you a happy?"

"As a matter of fact, Casey, she did," Chuck said and smiled at his handler, determined to not let the perennially grumpy assassin cum retail salesman spoil this moment. He'd just quit the Buy More. There was nothing that could ruin his day. Casey just grunted and stepped into the Buy More to give his own notice.

Emmett glanced over at the towering figure of John Casey, who was looking around the store with an aloof gaze.

"Hmph. Insurgents."

Emmett's eyes lit up with the anticipation of 'duty reallocation.'

"Casey, we've had a group of vagrant… insurgents come into the Buy More and vandalize the store. Clean it up," he ordered with a smirk and turned to hunt down his errant employees.

Casey opened his mouth to speak, looked at the posters and grunted. He then got to work taking down the posters as ordered.

* * *

Sarah smiled as Chuck entered the Orange Orange, a grin on his face like she'd never seen. And she'd seen quite a few heart-warming smiles from him.

"Hey Chuck. You quit?"

"Yes," he said enthusiastically, leaning against the counter as she cleaned up from the latest round of teenage boys coming in to take her picture. "I am so glad to be out of there. Thank you again."

"I didn't really do anything, Chuck," she said, smiling up at him as she wiped down the counter. "You're the one with the skill set they need.

"You aren't just being given the job. You earned it," she said, fudging the details a little.

"Yeah… but I wouldn't have even considered applying for that position… before you. So thanks," he said and they drifted into a stilted silence.

"So… you're going to be training with Casey," Sarah said, trying to steer the conversation towards more familiar territory. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks for reminding me," Chuck good-naturedly grumbled while rolling his eyes. "I can't imagine him being a patient tutor."

"You'll do fine," she said, laying a hand on his arm comfortingly.

"So… how about a celebratory dinner tonight," Chuck asked a little nervously, his hands in his pockets to hide the sweatiness. "You, me, maybe an olive-free pizza?"

"You had me until pizza," Sarah replied while shutting down the cash register for the day, finding it easy to slip back into their playful banter.

"Okay… Subway?"

"Try again."

"Ooh… Sbarro?"

"Oooh… no."

They shared a smile for a moment and Chuck picked up a broom to start sweeping.

"Okay, last offer. Casa Bartowski. Dinner for two. My famous chick-en pep-per-oni," Chuck drew out in a sing-song way, making Sarah laugh.

"Okay. You're on," Sarah returned with a grin, wrapping her fingers around his tie. Chuck's eyes widened as she then pulled him to her for a kiss, standing on her toes to touch her lips to his and making Chuck fearful that they'd tip over as he leaned into her. The kiss was broken by the sound of the doorbell.

"Ah man! I told you she had a boyfriend," they heard from the door, eliciting a bashful smile from said boyfriend.

"See you tonight," Sarah whispered and he gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Sorry boys, we're closed."

"Tonight," Chuck replied, following in the footsteps of the crestfallen teens, knowing fully the disappointment they were feeling and savoring the rush of pure joy that everything he had wanted for so long was possible.

"Look at it this way, fellas," Chuck said, drawing the attention of the two boys for a moment. "If it could happen to a guy like **me**, it can happen for you."

"Thanks. Real inspiring," the less pimply boy groused and Chuck just shook his head ruefully, looking to see if he could catch a bus home.

* * *

Laszlo pulled the t-shirt over his head and smiled at Vincent.

"Thanks again for busting me out of there. Prison food? Please. I'd rather eat horse feces. Again."

"Charming," Vincent dead-panned, handing a folder to the Ring's newest asset. "Now your part of the deal. Tell me everything you know about Charles Carmichael."

* * *

Chuck got half way to the bus stop when he heard a sharp whistle from the Buy More

"Where you think you're going, numbnuts," Casey snarled, dragging Chuck back to the Orange Orange. Ignoring the asset's objections, Casey pushed Chuck towards the back, a bundle of posters under his other arm.

"You ready?"

"Now? I was thinking I could warm up with some yoga. Maybe some-"

"Can it, Bartowski. For the next two weeks, you're not an asset and I'm not your handler. I'm your drill instructor, Major Casey."

Chuck looked at Sarah imploringly as Casey herded him towards the cooler.

"Sarah? Help?"

"Sorry Chuck," she returned with a sympathetic smile. "My hands are tied."

"From now on, you will speak only when spoken to," Casey smirked, loving every minute of this. "The first and last word out of your filthy sewer will be 'Sir.' Do you understand, maggot?"

"Okay Gunnery Sergeant Casey, I think you can let up on the-"

"I can't hear you, maggot! Sound off like you got a pair! Do you understand that?"

"Sir, yes sir," Chuck grumbled as he entered Castle, needing to grab the railing as Casey gave him another rough push.

"Good. Bartowski, when you leave this facility, you'll be ready for anything the Federal Bureau of Ineptitude can throw at you. You'll be the best agent I can make you. But until that day, you're puke. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You're not even a human, fucking being. You will not like me-"

"Imagine that," Chuck muttered under his breath.

"But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. My orders are to make you into the man the Powers That Be know you can become. I'm going to make you better."

Chuck stopped and turned to look at Casey with a look of something approaching understanding as they got to the bottom of the stairs, understanding touched with a modicum of respect.

"You have much to learn, grasshopper," Casey said with an eager smile. "Let's get started."

* * *

After her shift, Sarah came down to check on Chuck and make sure he was still in one piece. Her brows furrowed as she looked up to the wall next to the monitor they received briefings on and saw a large poster depicting a larger than life Emmett Millbarge looking down on the viewer haughtily. He was standing on a pile of Buy More employees and in bold type at the top the poster read BIG EMMETT IS WATCHING YOU.

Smiling, she entered the dojo to find Casey and Chuck in sweats and t-shirts, facing off on the mat.

"Take a breath, Bartowski. Don't think of your opponent as someone larger, stronger than you. He's the guy between you, and what you want," Casey said as they danced around the mat. Chuck's gaze met Sarah's as he stood across the room.

Chuck's eyes fluttered and Casey looked at him suspiciously, recognizing the tell-tale signs of a flash. Chuck smiled and threw a punch at Casey's head, which was easily deflected, but he followed up the feint with a kidney punch. Casey stepped back with a grunt of surprise as his asset smiled triumphantly.

"Uh-huh! How you like me now, sucka," Chuck smarmed as Casey circled him and Sarah swallowed nervously. She continued watching with her nerves on edge as Casey put Chuck through numerous physical tests. It didn't take long for her to notice that Casey wasn't just training Chuck to pass the exams, he was now putting the pieces together and was paying close attention to their asset, watching to see when he flashed.

* * *

As Chuck went to the showers to clean up, Casey took off his gloves, catching Sarah's attention before she could leave the room.

"What do you supposed Fulcrum put in Bartowski's head?"

"What?"

"At Meadow Branch," he continued, looking at her keenly, as he forehead off his neck with a towel. "What did they do to him?"

Sarah opened her mouth to utter a denial, then sighed in defeat.

"I don't know."

"He's not just spitting out information now, Walker," Casey replied, his tone and expression softening as he held the towel in his hands, seemingly unsure what to do with it. "He's flashing on bombs, martial arts, weapons. We need to report this."

"It's Chuck," Sarah all but plead. "He's no threat to national security."

Casey's jaw tensed as he suppressed his initial biting remark, a gesture that wasn't lost on Sarah. She didn't know exactly when it happened, but at some point Chuck had found a chink in Stonewall Casey. Chuck had shown there was actually a human being inside.

"Give me a month," Sarah said, sensing this was the out Casey was looking for. "One month. If we can't figure this out, the three of us, then… Beckman decides what to do with him."

Casey glanced over to the gear and started to toss the towel before looking at her again and putting it over his shoulder. He didn't give a response, but Sarah didn't expect one. As always, his actions spoke louder than his words.

* * *

…_. Touched,  
_…_. You say that I am too,  
_…_. So much,  
_…_. Of what you say is true,_

Chuck quietly hummed along to the song as he danced around the kitchen, putting vegetables in a pot to cook while the chicken pepperoni was heated in the oven.

…_. I'll never find someone quite like you,  
_…_. Again,  
_…_. I'll never find someone quite like you,  
_…_. Like you,_

* * *

Vincent looked at the address in Echo Park he'd discovered for one Eleanor Faye Bartowski. A relatively unassuming place and not one that he expected to find one Charles Carmichael in, but that was probably the point. From the apartment near the back, he could hear music drifting in through the partially open window.

…_. The razors and the dying roses,  
_…_. Plead I don't leave you alone,  
_…_. The demi-gods and hungry ghosts,  
_…_. God, god knows I'm not at home,_

* * *

Chuck picked up a spoon and pretended it was a microphone he was singing into as he turned up the heat on the stovetop.

"I'll never find someone quite like you, again. I'll never find someone quite like you, again," he sang along with the song, not caring that he didn't quite hold the tune.

* * *

Vincent snuck up to the Morgan door and checked it for alarms. Finding none, he studied it uneasily.

"It can't be that simple."

Pulling out a set of tools, he thoroughly searched the frame for hidden sensors, laser detectors, anything more advanced than a simple lock. Finding none, he shook his head and slid the window open, finding it didn't even have a lock. Slipping into the room, Vincent looked around at the toys, the strewn clothes and the movie posters, then checking the address again, ignoring the obvious presence of someone in the house for the moment.

"Charles Carmichael, scourge of FULCRUM, lives… here?"

* * *

Chuck opened the oven to check on his meal and when he turned back around, nearly jumped out of his skin to find someone standing there. Someone that seemed unusually, eerily pleased to see him.

"Excuse me," Vincent said, holding up a playing card. "Do you know what this is?"

…_. I looked into your eyes and  
_…_. Saw a world that does not exist,  
_…_. I looked into your eyes and,  
_…_. Saw a world I wish I was in,_

Chuck's eyes rolled as he flashed on the card, red-tinted images of the _Industrial Society and Its Future_, a schematic of the Ambassador Hotel Embassy Room ballroom, tape number Q042.

Vincent smiled.

"Welcome to the Ring, Agent Carmichael."

* * *

When Sarah stopped by the apartment, she was surprised when Chuck didn't immediately open the door. Peeking in the window, her agent senses came alert and she kicked the door open. Smoke was filling the small kitchenette and she quickly put out the burning dinner. A quick search found that Chuck wasn't here, his iPod on the counter and still playing music. The only thing out of place was a single Queen of Hearts playing card on the floor.

…_. I'll never find someone quite as touched as you  
…. I'll never love someone quite the way that I loved you._

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it's a short one, but hope you like :) Please read & review_


	6. Wrong

**Chapter 6 – Wrong**

**A/N: This chapter I wanted to flesh out the character and background of Laszlo a bit. It gets a little dark. **

**Thanks for all the great reviews!**

Casey approached the Bartowski residence with his gun in hand, held low. He'd gotten a panicked call from Walker minutes ago saying that Chuck was missing and surveillance of the area had been compromised. He didn't expect a threat when he got to Echo Park, but he knew he couldn't be sure. What he didn't expect was to find Walker in the kitchen, cleaning up messy pots and muttering to herself, "one uninterrupted meal, is that too much to ask?"

"Walker," Casey ventured forward, glancing around for any sign of a struggle and seeing none. "What happened?"

"Where've you been," Sarah spat out at him, scrubbing burnt food from a dish.

"Setting up for Chuck's training. What happened," he asked, moving into the room and tucking the gun away in his back holster.

"Surveillance was interrupted a half hour before I got here," Sarah gritted through her teeth as she tried to grind out the set in stains. "Point of entry was through the Morgan Door. We need to put a lock on that damn thing. Dinner was being cooked, thoroughly. And Chuck was gone. Only thing out of place is that card on the table."

Casey stepped over and took a look at the card, using a kitchen knife to turn it over.

"Prints?"

"Don't know. Check it at Castle. I have to get this mess cleaned up before Ellie or Awesome gets home," Sarah snarled, attacking the dish with renewed vigor.

* * *

Laszlo sat on the curb on the street, looking at the lighter in his hand and flicking it open occasionally, just to watch the fire burn.

… _I was born with the wrong sign_

… _In the wrong house_

… _With the wrong ascendancy_

… _I took the wrong road_

… _That led to the wrong tendencies_

Music from the open door to his father's car drifted through the periphery of his focus on the world, stirring up old memories.

* * *

7-year old Laszlo stood by his mother's bedside, clutching her hand in his. He was no stranger to the Seattle Mercy Hospital and neither was his mother. When the nurses asked what happened, the automatic response rolled off his swollen, split lip.

"She fell down the stairs," he'd whisper as his father stood behind them, staring at the boy.

When the next month rolled around and his father had more bills he couldn't pay, vodka and a clenched fist were the source of relief. The nurses would worry about how "clumsy" Mrs. Manhovski was, but the police couldn't interfere in a personal dispute when they were met with silence and lies.

In those times when Laszlo's mother was in the hospital, he could find ways to get a respite from his father for a few hours. In the hospital, he couldn't be touched. When they returned home, he would run to the library, soaking up knowledge from the minds of Einstein, Oppenheimer and Tesla, while reading the philosophy of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Hegel. But it was the drive home in the front seat of that '69 Buick where there was no place for him to escape. No refuge to take comfort from the drunken caresses and angry blows. It was on the battered, worn seat of that relic that a monster was born.

* * *

Casey ran the card through a dusting and found that there were no prints on the card at all, giving them no leads, but ruling out that it belonged to one of the Bartowskis.

A quick search through the government databases regarding the Queen of Hearts playing card and known terrorist organizations, criminal operations and government operatives yielded no connections or leads as well.

With a groan, Casey pushed away from the computer desk and cracked his knuckles. For once, he wished Chuck was here. The kid was a whiz with this technical mumbo-jumbo. Even if he couldn't flash on the connections, he could sit down at the computer, whip up some code for a program that would track down the information he needed. Chuck had the skills that the team put their trust in.

Casey, he put his trust in his gut. And his instincts were telling him that Laszlo having escaped recently, again, was no coincidence. Rising to his feet, he smiled at the comforting sound of the slide on his gun cocking back as he pulled up Laszlo's file. Casey had his own skill set.

* * *

13-year old Laszlo had been making his father's meals for the last year. After his mother's latest accident, she fractured a few bones in her hip and lost a good portion of her mobility. Sure, she could still get around the kitchen and was happy to make meals for her husband, but Laszlo insisted. He was proving to be very helpful in the kitchen and his mother eventually left it up to him entirely. The couple times he broke a glass, his father would curse and punish him for it, but there was a glint in the boy's eye. A determination that each punch helped concrete. He always cleaned up the broken glass, making sure he got every broken piece.

By the time Laszlo turned 14, his father was starting to have his own health problems. He never questioned where that broken glass was going. He certainly never suspected the boy was grinding it into a fine powder and mixing it in his food.

As Laszlo stood at his father's funeral holding his mother's hand, he was glad the simple-minded fool was gone. Over the years of watching his father's abuse of his mother, he began to suspect that something was wrong with her. She was broken inside. Watching her cry with grief, he thought of the medical journals he'd read about behavioral modification through the application of medicine. His mom always said he could become a doctor.

"Don't worry mom," he said consolingly, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I'll fix everything."

* * *

… _There's something wrong with me chemically  
… Something wrong with me inherently  
… The wrong mix in the wrong genes  
… I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means  
_

Laszlo got up as he saw his asset approaching. Without a doubt, Chuck was his greatest accomplishment. When agents of Fulcrum approached him last year following his first attempt to escape from the CIA and offered an opportunity to build a new Intersect from the confines of his bunker, he saw unlimited potential in the amount of harm he could inflict on the Agency, but putting that Intersect upgrade in Chuck's head… that was icing on the cake.

In what Laszlo found to be an ironic contrast, Chuck was wearing a black shirt, white tie and white pants. The latter did nothing to hide the splashes of red on his thighs and smears of red on the knees, as Chuck carried a large black bag over his shoulder with no hint of emotion on his face.

"Good work, Chuck," Laszlo complimented as his asset dumped the heavy load into the trunk of the car. "Any complications?"

"None," was the cold, confident reply.

"That's what we like to hear," Laszlo said, slamming the trunk down and then bouncing on it to make sure the latch caught. "That's a job well done. Kinda makes you proud, huh?"

"Yes sir."

Laszlo smiled and started walking away from the car, Chuck falling in behind him. As they reached the edge of the parking lot, he flicked the lighter on again and watched it burn for a moment before dropping it into the trail of gasoline he'd left on the ground minutes ago. Watching his father's car burn, Laszlo put his arm around Chuck's shoulder.

"You know, buddy, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

His mother's stability started spiraling downward shortly after her husband passed away under mysterious circumstances. The police didn't have concrete evidence, just reasonable suspicion based on the internal hemorrhaging that he'd suffered before dying and the record of abuse against his wife. It wasn't enough to convict her on, but it was enough to engender her suspicions against her own son.

This hostility towards him was something that Laszlo set out to study and analyze. He knew she had a fear of snakes and the placing of snakes in her bed at bedtime always elicited the expected high pitched shriek of horror and the string of obscenities she hurled at him.

As he grew older, Laszlo studied more in depth the workings of the mind and acquired a number of useful connections in the local hospital where the nurses and doctors remembered him from youth and were all too happy to help him, hoping to make some amends for the years of not taking action against his abusive father. Guilty consciences that inadvertently allowed Laszlo to take the medicines he needed from the hospital pharmacy. Medicines that he used to 'treat' his mother's condition and drive her into a catatonic state.

Watching his mother taken away to the hospital for the last time, Laszlo decided to play some games at the Santa Monica pier. What he discovered was a whole new kind of game to play.

* * *

Sarah turned as she heard the front door opening and the look of hope on her face sunk as she saw it was just Ellie coming back from work. Dropping the dirty gloves into the trash, she gave the kitchen a quick once over for any other incriminating evidence before stepping out.

"Hey Ellie."

"Well, hey Sarah," Ellie replied with a look of pleased surprise. "I didn't expect to find you here!"

"Sorry. I came by to talk to Chuck, but… he wasn't home."

"No need to apologize," Ellie said, giving the taller woman a hug. "You're welcome anytime."

"Thanks. But I… should be going-"

"No, wait," Ellie quickly interjected, grabbing Sarah's hand as she pulled back and could make her escape. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to talk to you."

"I-"

"Come here," Ellie continued, practically dragging Sarah over to the sofa. With a soft sigh, the agent allowed herself to be led. She knew this tone by now. There were only three escape routes- incapacitate her (and thereby pissing the entire Bartowski clan off), cut off her own arm or ride it out.

"I wanted to talk about you. And Chuck. And where you see that going."

On the other hand, sharp implements were nearby. She could get out with Casey's definition of an acceptable loss.

* * *

Vincent, Laszlo and Chuck stood in the middle of a large, dark room under a spotlight. Before them, the Five Elders reviewed the mission synopsis.

"As you can see, the 2.0 performs flawlessly. The prototype is ready for full implementation in our sleepers."

"Agreed," Artemis said, looking up from her screen. "You've done well, Vincent. We have a new assignment for you. If the 2.0 is going to be fully deployed, we'll need more than the prototype. For that, we need Orion. You'll head up a task force to find him. Bring Orion back, unharmed," she said, stressing the last.

"Yes ma'am," Vincent said and stepped out of the light as he was dismissed, leaving Laszlo and Chuck there.

"Laszlo, you will head up the Janus Project now. You will report to me for missions," Artemis said, watching the man closely for any hint of insubordination.

"Yes ma'am," Laszlo echoed Vincent's sentiment, but less with precise formality and more a flippant disdain.

Yes, I'll need to watch him closely, Artemis thought as she dismissed him. The other Elders departed shortly after, leaving her alone with their newest asset. Artemis swallowed the bile in her throat as she stepped down from the platform and approached the young man before her.

Young man. She had no idea when that'd happened. In her mind, he would always be that little prince and she would be his Frost Queen. Standing in front of him now, she was full of pride on reading how much he had accomplished, and full of fear of how much danger he was in. Touching his cheek, a lone tear rolled down her cheek.

"Aces, Charles. You're aces."


End file.
